


seven

by sapphicshakespeare



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, creek stomping, gratuitous talk of amphibians, just 2 boys being best friends, marriage proposal but like with a blade of grass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28138668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicshakespeare/pseuds/sapphicshakespeare
Summary: "Iwa-chan, if I was a toad queen and you were a frog king, would you marry me for the good of our kingdoms?""Oikawa… what?"(or, iwaoi creek-stomping and grass-ring weddings)
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	seven

**Author's Note:**

> this is vaaaaaaguely related to my other iwaoi fic, but totally can be read as a cute little standalone of baby iwa & oikawa :)))
> 
> yes the title is from taylor swift’s “seven”  
> yes u should go listen to “paper rings” bc it screams oikawa energy  
> ok ok go enjoy the boys being frog enthusiasts !!

Tucked away behind Oiwaka’s house, barely visible from the street, there is a small creek. A brook, you might call it. A small, crystal-clear stream that connects to a lake on the other side of town. Around that creek is a moderately-sized forest; not quite tiny, but not exactly expansive, either. The perfect size for two growing boys, Iwaizumi’s mother had remarked to him one sunny afternoon. He’d agreed wholeheartedly.

Now it was another such afternoon, and Oikawa was lying back against the green earth, socks and shoes discarded, waiting for his feet to finish drying. Iwaizumi lay beside him, clothes damp but not quite as soaked as Oikawa’s. When Oikawa had suggested they go frog-hunting in the creek, he’d neglected to inform Iwaizumi of his true intentions, which were to jump on top of him and push the both of them into the cold creek. Fortunately for him, Iwaizumi had come prepared, bearing rainboots, a purple bucket for frog-keeping, and quick-dry clothing. Oikawa had not had so much forethought.

And so they lay there, overcanopied by maple trees, frog bucket abandoned and forgotten, the gentle murmur of the creek lulling their thoughts. For a moment, the water and the trees and the boys all breathe in harmony.

Until, of course, Oikawa gets bored. He jumps up and off his feet, offering a hand to Iwaizumi, who shades his eyes and scowls up at him. Oikawa wiggles his hand impatiently, but Iwaizumi doesn’t budge.

“Iwa-chaaaaan,” he whines, eyeing the creek. “Come onnnn, I’m boooored.” A sly smile spreads across Oikawa’s face when Iwaizumi lowers the hand covering his eyes. Iwaizumi fights the urge to smile back.

“Let’s get back in the creek!” His toothy grin is too bright from Iwaizumi, threatening to burn itself into his memory.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi deadpans, motioning to socks and shoes and his own damp clothes, “Why on earth would I get back in there with you? So that you can ambush me again?” Oikawa makes no attempt to conceal his expression, face gleaming with mischievous pride.

“No,” he insists, “We should go back into the creek because we haven’t actually caught any frogs yet.”

“Oh, because that’s why you asked me to come over today.”

“Nope,” Oikawa says, popping the ‘p,’ “I asked you to come over because I like you. The frogs are just an added bonus.” Iwaizumi sits with this for a second, then decides that Oikawa means he likes him as a best friend. Because that’s what they are. Why would he think anything different?

“We won’t even get wet this time, I promise.”

After a moment’s deliberation, Iwaizumi takes Oikawa’s hand. He’s yanked onto his feet and stands, waiting, as Oikawa pulls his still-soaked socks over his ankles and ties up his sneakers.

“Creek walk time!” He announced, before promptly tripping over himself and falling back into the water. So much for not getting wet. Sighing, Iwaizumi helps him back up. The two of them head down the creek.

It doesn’t take long for them to find a frog— Iwaizumi is somewhat of a professional tracker, and Oikawa’s frog-grabbing hands are fast and precise. Soon, they have a sizable number of amphibians in their capture. Four frogs, two toads, and one… lizard? Iwaizumi is pretty sure it’s a lizard. Oikawa says it looks like him, because it has spiky gills and seems as if it’s frowning. 

“So,” Oikawa starts, holding a frog in the palm of each of his hands. For some reason, they don’t jump away from him. “What now?”

_He’s got a point,_ Iwaizumi thinks. The whole reason they were frog hunting was to catch frogs, but what were they to do with them afterwards? Let them hop back into the creek, never to be seen again? Keep the frogs forever in the cracked purple bucket? The last option seems cruel to Iwaizumi. He’d never want to spend his life trapped in a bucket. Oikawa plucks the frogs from his palms, plopping them carefully back into the bucket.

Then, he brings his fist to his chin, eyebrows furrowing. He’s thinking about something, thinking hard, eyes scrunched up in concentration. Iwaizumi hears Oikawa’s tell-tale “idea gasp,” and braces himself for what comes next.

“We should,” he says, voice laced with excitement, climbing higher and higher as he goes along, “Have a frog wedding! Wouldn’t that be so cute, Iwaizumi, it’d be adorable!” Iwaizumi merely shakes his head in response. Only Oikawa, he thinks, would come up with the idea of a frog wedding. Then he thinks, why would Oikawa care about weddings?

“How are we supposed to have a frog wedding?”

“Hmm. Good question.” Oikawa snaps his fingers. “What if we dress them up in little frog hats made of grass!"

"Do you know how to make a frog hat out of grass?"

"No. But I can try!" Iwiazumi throws his hands up in defeat, agreeing to Oikawa's admittedly insane idea. Like I always do, he thinks, but doesn't say. Oikawa turns out to be 100% better than expected at making small hats out of the slippery grass, weaving the strands together, careful not to let them tear. Iwaizumi is terrible at hat-making, but finds that he's content to sit back and watch Oikawa's crafty, quick fingers twist the grass into something splendid. In the end, he makes eight distinctly different hats, each looking a bit like a crown.

"Oh, it can be a royal wedding with horses and carriages and kings and queens and - "

"- why do you know this much about royalty - "

" - a palace with high walls and painted ceilings!"

"Shittykawa, we're in a forest."

"Then it'll be a wedding between the frog kings and toad queens of the forest." There's a determined glow in Oikawa's smooth brown eyes, and Iwaizumi knows he won't be deterred in his goal to marry the frogs. He rolls his eyes, and helps Oikawa fit the crowns atop the amphibian’s slimy heads. 

"Iwa-chan, if I was a toad queen and you were a frog king, would you marry me for the good of our kingdoms?"

"Oikawa… what?"

"It's a serious question!" Oikawa huffs and crosses his arms, lips pouted and eyes narrowed. Iwaizumi regards his disposition, and quickly decides that it is a serious question and he has to give a serious answer. He looks back up at Oikawa, dejected, toeing at the creek with his wet sneakers.

“I guess, maybe, if it was necessary? Like,” he groans, pinching the skin in between his eyebrows, “Some kind of treaty?”

“For the good of our kingdoms,” Iwaizumi clarifies.

“For the good of our kingdoms,” Oikawa repeats, as if he’s actually contemplating the bureaucratic implications of such a matrimony in his imaginary universe. After a moment’s deliberation, he nods his head fiercely. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Before Iwaizumi is able to process what’s happening, Oikawa ducks behind him and snatches up a few more blades of grass. He turns his back to Iwaizumi for a moment, fingers flying frantically. When he spins back around, he holds his cupped palms out in front of him. A small circle of woven grass sits in between his hands.

“I, uh,” Oikawa stammers, looking more flustered than Iwaizumi has ever seen him. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish his sentence. 

“For you,” he finally chokes out, grabbing Iwaizumi’s wrist and pushing the ring into his hand. Iwaizumi stares at it for a second, tracing the looping path of the grass with his eyes. Then he hands it back to Oikawa.

“You don’t like it?” His eyes are wide with terror as he slowly backs away from Iwaizumi. “Sorry, I. I’ll just get rid of it then it’s not that important I didn’t really like it either—”

“No!” Iwaizumi surprises himself. “No, no. I gave it back to you because… well, what’s it for?” It’s a genuine question, although Iwaizumi sort of already knows the answer.

“Well. Usually, when,” he stops again, fiddles with the ring, “When two people are gonna get married, they have rings? And I thought, uh, you might want one. For the good of the kingdom, you know?” Iwaizumi nods, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

“Yeah,” he whispers. They both stare at the ring, thinking the exact same thing. Neither of them says it, though.

Iwaizumi clears his throat. “How do you, I mean, what finger does it go on?” Oikawa’s head perks up. This, he knows.

“Okay, so,” turning over Iwaizumi’s hand, he holds the ring up to his third finger, “It’s supposed to go here. On your… left hand? I think. Yeah. Here, I can put it on for you.” Oikawa slides the ring down Iwaizumi’s finger, then steps back and smiles. Iwaizumi holds his hand up to the sky, watching the slivers of sun peek through his fingers. The ring looks really nice, he thinks.

“I’m only wearing this today,” Iwaizumi blurts out, “So don’t get the wrong idea.”

“Mhm,” Oikawa hums. “It’s for the good of the kingdom, remember?” His voice is somewhere dreamy and far-off, his smile as sweet as honey. 

“Right.”

Iwaizumi ends up wearing the ring all day, only taking it off when his mom points it out at dinner, and asks him who the lucky girl is. His face burns, and he tells her that it’s nobody, just a stupid thing he made while he was bored. He shoves the ring into his pocket, but is careful not to crush it.

Later, alone in his room, Iwaizumi pulls out the old cigar box that he keeps under his bed. It was his uncle’s, he knows, because neither of his parents ever smoked. It’s one of the nice ones, too; delicately etched with golden designs of tropical breezes and Cuban women. He gently pops it open, sliding the grass ring off his finger and into the box, where it settles amongst his other treasures. Then, he slides the cigar box back under his bed and rolls over onto his side. 

He’ll fall asleep soon, and forget all about how Oikawa’s hands felt against his, how he shone in the sun. But right now, he remembers. And he smiles.


End file.
